Savannah’s head snapped up. For the first time in months, she looked forward rather than down. As they danced, the music swelled, the orchestra finding their courage, caught in the wake of the boy who had risked everything to break the silence. Wesley’s movements were calculated to stabilize her, his grip shifting with the precision of a surgeon, hiding the effort while showcasing her elegance.
Trevor Hamilton stood stranded at the sidelines, his face a mask of purple-hued rage. His “court” began to scatter, realizing that the cruelty they had enjoyed was no longer cool—it was pathetic.
Harrison Ashford stood up, his eyes overflowing with tears. He walked to the edge of the floor, not to intervene, but to watch. He saw not a charity case, but a man—a boy who possessed the dignity his daughter’s own friends had lacked.